


Taking Back What's Ours

by Lady_Mischievous



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen, Guilt, M/M, Raventrust Week 2020, Trauma, headcanons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:35:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26082040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Mischievous/pseuds/Lady_Mischievous
Summary: A collection of short stories for RavenTrust Week 2020.
Relationships: Khadgar/Medivh (Warcraft), a few others mentioned - Relationship
Comments: 18
Kudos: 20





	1. Quiet Night

**Author's Note:**

> Due to an incident and some issues that hit me last week, some prompts are going to be late. I'll be doing as many of them as I can and I hope that you will enjoy them.

**Prompt** : Quiet Night

It was quiet save for the soft, steady rhythm of Moroes’ footsteps as he strolled up the stairs towards the Grand Ballroom. He was making his evening rounds, making sure the tower and her denizens wound down for the night. Moroes said ‘no’ to Attumen as he was about to sneak out with Midnight for a nighttime ride (going as far to threaten to lock them out if they refused to listen). He told Bennet that it was time to let the tower’s ghostly guards rest and have those assigned to the night shift to start their patrols.

Moroes gave a soft sigh, mentally lamenting how he had let the tower’s routine fall into shambles. Granted, he had been broken during the later part his natural life. A result of the 'unfortunate event’, as everyone called it, that had claimed the lives of almost everyone in the tower. Moroes had survived and Medivh had found him, only to realize that his mind had shattered from the horrors he had seen. Out of mercy, Medivh tried to seal the memories of that night but Moroes was never the same. Yet another thing Sargeras had taken from him, leaving Medivh with no guidance and heavy guilt, leading him to shut himself away from the public. This served to give Sargeras even more ability to wear down the Guardian’s mind and will. That thought was enough to make Moroes wish to plunge his daggers into the titan's heart. It would only be a fraction of the pain he had caused them but it would certainly be satisfying.

If death had done anything for Moroes, it brought his mind back to what it once was (for the most part). He had his memories of his years of service to Aegwynn and Medivh, _that_ night, and the years after. Moroes had paused his trek, having made it through half of the Grand Ballroom and reached into the breast pocket of his vest (Khadgar had been kind enough to provide him new, tailored clothing), and fished out his treasured pocket watch. It had been repaired and polished by Medivh, it shined proudly and told the time accurately once more. Moroes’ brow knit together as he noted the hour, he was running a little late. His thoughts were then rudely interrupted when he caught the sounds of loud music wafting down from the upper floor. Moroes’ mouth formed a tight, thin line as he already knew the culprit.

The theater, which was once and perhaps still was the crown jewel of the tower, was full of music and chatter as Barnes and the acting troupe were still rehearsing. Barnes had come up with a new story for a new play and he had been determined to get things together. Some of the Troupe’s crew were working on new set pieces, sawing and hammering away, while others were going over lines and practicing music. All together it was a chaotic mess of sound that was flooding most of the third floor of the tower.

Moroes had just entered the theater, he stormed down the red carpet, down the main aisle, and past the empty audience seats. Moroes came to a stop before the band pit, Barnes was lucky there was a large gap between the stage and where the undead castellan stood. Though, that wouldn’t have really stopped Moroes from jumping over it and swatting Barnes upside the head. But no, he was going to be civil. Moroes had let his manners and grace degrade enough over the years. Such things wouldn’t do, if he was going to whip the tower back into shape, he was going to have to work on himself as well.

“Ehem!” Moroes cleared his throat loudly. A couple of the actors noticed, one even gave a nervous wave but Barnes remained blissfully unaware. Moroes sighed and shook his head before finally barking out the playwright’s name loud and clear: “Barnes!”

Barnes jolted, surprised by the shouting, and winced as Moroes continued to chew him out. He looked upwards to the undead steward and gave a small, pathetic wave. “Oh, Moroes, fancy seeing you here. We’ll try to reign in the noise, sorry for that.”

“No, that’s enough practice for today. You and your troupe were supposed to wind things down for the night _over an hour ago_.” Moroes said as he crossed his arms and fixed a stern look unto Barnes.

“Oh! It’s been an hour already?” Barnes said as he placed a hand on his chest, feigning ignorance. “But we’re _just_ getting to the _best_ part and--”

“You can pick things up _tomorrow_ .” Moroes interrupted him. Then a thought suddenly occurred to him and he quickly added: “ _After_ breakfast time.”

Barnes huffed and pouted at the removal of a potential loophole he could exploit. “Moroes, we’re dead, we don’t need to eat or sleep!”

“Barnes, don’t test me, your rehearsals can wait. Need I remind you, the Master, who is _not_ undead and _does_ need nourishment and sleep, has returned and it’s my duty to have things running in ship shape again.”

“Fiiiiiine…” Barnes whined while dramatically rolling his eyes. He turned around and to face the acting troupe and they began to head back to their own quarters. “We’ll pick this up tomorrow...”

Moroes stood for a while, watching the troupe leave the stage. When they were all gone, he waited a moment, then two, his instincts telling him to wait just a little longer. Moroes’ eyes then narrowed upon seeing Barnes’ head peek out from behind one of the curtains to see if the coast was clear.

“BARNES!!!”

Once again, Barnes disappeared behind the curtains and could be heard scrambling and tripping over things backstage to get away.

Moroes quirked a brow at the racket being made as surely there was now a huge mess being made backstage. He turned on his heel and made his way towards the theater’s exit. With a soft sigh, he said under his breath: “He’s an idiot but he’s _my_ idiot...”

-o-o-o-

When Moroes arrived at Medivh's study he gently opened the door and walked in. He could see things had already began winding without his encouragement. The flying books were all in their respective places on their shelves. The manawyrms, that Medivh _insisted_ were his pets, were nestled together in a nest that was set up for them made of enchanted cloths and old magic robes. A small croak from above drew Moroes’ eyes upwards where he could see a pair of Medivh’s ravens perched above, watching him. Moroes raised a finger to his lips, signaling to them to remain quiet. Even the model of the solar system had slowed to crawl and the glowing star chart above glowed a little brighter, emulating the night skies.

Moroes continued on until he found Medivh and Khadgar together. They were both lounging on the master’s favorite couch, which was large enough to serve as a bed (or perhaps it was enchanted to change size when needed). They were both still awake, reading their own books, enjoying tea and each other’s company.

Neither seemed to have noticed Moroes’ presence yet and he didn’t make any effort to get their attention. There was something pleasant in seeing the pair together. Khadgar had certainly changed since he was that awkward young lad that came to their tower all those years ago. He was taller, wiser, and (though Moroes wouldn’t admit it to him aloud) was surprisingly charming. Yet despite all of his titles, experiences, and his current standing as leader of Dalaran, he was still Khadgar and that fact was comforting.

Medivh was more sullen than he had ever been before. Sargeras and the guilt that came with everything that had happened left only a shell of the once vibrant magus. Medivh oddly looked younger and calmer without the weight of dark titan upon him. He was also weary and withdrawn, having spent a chunk of the new life Aegwynn had given him in self-exile. It was a sad state to find him in but whenever Khadgar was around, he seemed to brighten up, if just a little. There in that moment, in the quiet company of his beloved companion, Medivh looked genuinely happy.

Moroes gave a slight smile before turning around and making his way back towards the Study’s door. There was no need to interrupt them. Moroes couldn’t help but hope that, with some time, old wounds would finally be able to heal.

- **The End** -


	2. Attending a Ball Together

**Prompt** : Attending a Ball Together

Khadgar loved the sound of Medivh’s laughter, it was light, melodious, and infectious. It was hard not to at least smile a little when the Magus chuckled or told a joke. The crowd gathered around that were of Dalaran’s elite, from high ranking mages of the Kirin Tor, members of noble families, and champions from both the Alliance and the Horde. Orc, human, elf, goblin, it didn’t matter, Medivh had them all wrapped around his little finger. Khadgar had heard a number of stories of the man being a renowned charmer and social butterfly. He had seen only glimpses of that side of Medivh while studying under him. But there, in the middle of a ball in Dalaran, Khadgar watched as Medivh gradually transformed from silent spectator to the life of the party.

It was the best outcome that Khadgar could have hoped for. He expected Medivh to outright refuse his invitation. Khadgar was certain that it would take a lot of coaxing and bargaining to get him to go. Medivh never cared for Dalaran but Khadgar was determined to show him that the city had changed for the better. Perhaps, even hope that Medivh would be willing to spend time there with him. Not that there was anything wrong with the tower (save for the repairs it was desperately in need of) but the idea of having Medivh closer was appealing. After all, Khadgar was the current leader of Dalaran and the Council of Six. While he enjoyed running off to Karazhan to take the occasional break, he couldn’t do it too often with his responsibilities. 

Instead, to his surprise, Medivh agreed easily enough. His emerald green eyes lit up at the invitation before schooling his expression, likely having said ‘yes’ before realizing _where_ they would be going. Khadgar felt glee at seeing that quiet excitement. Seeing such outbursts of Medivh’s feelings were a rare occurrence. The Magus tended to guard himself, much like a cat in pain, quiet and enduring.

Things started a little awkward. Medivh had taken to using an alias (which Khadgar fumbled with at first), absolutely refusing to reveal his real identity. ‘History’ wasn’t kind to the Magus, no matter how hard Khadgar tried to set the record straight as to what his situation truly was. It was simply easier to have Medivh cast as a villain. During Khadgar’s time on Outland, the Kirin Tor had warped Medivh from a victim of circumstance to the ultimate cautionary tale for mages. He was what happened when the laws of the Kirin Tor weren’t obeyed. A wild hedgemage, seeking power and balking at such rules, becoming susceptible to dark influences and embracing them wholeheartedly. Many details were ‘conveniently forgotten’, while others were outright exaggerated. Khadgar had _many_ ‘choice words’ with the writers of such _garbage_. Unfortunately, the damage was already done. There were many that would be more than happy to kill Medivh should it be found out he was still alive.

Admittedly, Khadgar was fully aware of how risky it was to take Medivh to such an event. He was confident in his own ability to protect him, if the need arose. In a way, their roles had been reversed since Khadgar was a young, bright eyed apprentice. Now Medivh had to rely on _him_ for safety, his life was in Khadgar’s hands. Perhaps it was a little dark, but there was a certain thrill that came with that fact.

Khadgar eyed Medivh, smiling at how he made a small crowd laugh with a clever joke. He was so light, smiling and bright, and no sign of the heavy mood that constantly hung over him like a stormy cloud.

“Archmage!” a voice called out.

  
  
Khadgar turned his head just in time to see someone step in between him and Medivh. It was one of his champions, followed by a couple of other adventurers. Medivh trailed off in mid-sentence as he watched Khadgar swept away as if being pulled by a cruel tide. He suddenly felt alone without his companion by his side, awash in a sea of strangers.

Medivh drew in a breath and put the acting skills he had learned from Barnes to use. He finished his conversation, laughed along with a few bits and pieces of chatter before finding his chance to stealthily step away. As much as he used to thrive in such situations, it was still a lot to take on all at once. The night had been an odd mix of anxiety and fun which burned through his energy all too quickly.

Medivh managed to find his way onto a balcony. The cool, fresh night air washed over him and brought a small feeling of relief. He looked back towards the rest of the ball, seeing Khadgar surrounded by adventurers and other, younger mages. Medivh’s lips pressed together, forming a firm line. He turned his back to the ball, leaned against the railing of the balcony, and looked out at the city below.

Medivh had to admit, the city was beautiful. It was familiar yet very different, with its spires and lights that glinted like jewels. The Magus found himself growing curious as to what he might find should he sneak away and walk Dalaran’s streets. Perhaps he could convince Khadgar to run off with him to be in each other’s company and enjoy the night. Medivh looked back to the Ballroom only to find Khadgar was surrounded by even more people. Medivh watched in silence for a while, waiting to see if Khadgar would notice his absence.

One long moment passed, then two, then time seemed to drag out into a slow crawl. Medivh felt a strange concoction of emotions churning in his chest, making his heart feel heavy. He briefly toyed with the idea of causing trouble to steal Khadgar’s attention from his champions. 

Medivh quickly quashed the childish idea, surprised at himself for thinking of something so uncouth. Try as he might, he couldn’t deny that he felt jealous. Not of khadgar but of these...strangers. How his Trust looked at them, laughed with them, and seemed to revel in their company. They were so different from Medivh’s own tired and broken self. He was a ghost of an age that was long gone while Khadgar’s champions were vibrant and alive. They were the present and a hopeful future, they could attain happiness for themselves and Khadgar. This jealousy was bitter and foul and Medivh didn’t like feeling it.

“It’s been a long time, _Medivh_.”

The voice was spoken right into the Magus’ ear, causing him to jump and stumble back. He blinked upon seeing a silver-haired woman standing before him. She was an older but handsome woman, with observant sea-green eyes. Medivh recognized her instantly, having met her many years ago when he invited members of the Kirin Tor to his tower. What was meant to be the offering of an olive branch ended with the Kirin Tor berating and scolding the then young Guardian. It was a bitter memory, to say the least.

“Modera…” Medivh said with a cautious nod of acknowledgment.

“Medivh Aran…” Modera offered a smile, it was far from a genuine one. Her eyes squinted slightly, hardening their gaze. She was assessing the Magus, trying to judge if he was a potential threat. “Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”

“I was.” Medivh admitted, his tone blunt. He then reached up and gently pulled down the collar of his robes. A large, jagged scar encircled his neck. “Mother’s handiwork. Alas, she never was good at sewing.”

Modera’s composure broke for a moment, visibly wincing at the sight of it. She then reigned in her shock and recollected herself. “So, what are you? Undead?”

“From what I can tell, I’m very much alive.” Medivh admitted as he readjusted his collar. “My heart beats, I bleed, I need to breathe, eat, and sleep.” He could see Modera’s expression shift slightly and continued. “I have no idea how she did it, I only know that it cost her life.”

Medivh couldn’t stop the faltering in his own expression at the memories of Aegwynn’s final days. She was selfish, arrogant, and could be cold and cruel. But Aegwynn was still his mother and despite everything she had done, part of Medivh still loved her. At least during her last days, they made their peace with each other.

Both mages stood in silence for a moment, the weight of such a revelation was heavy.

“Why _you_ , of people?” Modera asked, perhaps unintentionally saying it aloud. She looked away from the Magus with reigned in frustration. “There are so many other people that deserve a second chance, so why you--”

“Trust me, I’m _fully aware_ that I’m the _last_ person that deserves such a thing.” Medivh snapped, his brow furrowed in annoyance. “But like most things in my life, I had little choice in the matter. I woke up, I was in ungodly pain, and there was my mother.” Medivh drew in a breath through his nose and released it as a sigh. “I tried to make up for at least a fraction of my crimes...”

Modera frowned and looked thoughtful for a moment. “...The Prophet…” She had remembered the reports of the strange man that tried to warn people of the Scourge and other horrors. He appeared before King Terenas, Antonidas, and a number of others, many brushing off his warnings. When Modera really thought about it, it made perfect sense that it would have been Medivh in disguise, given his talents for divination and flight. “That madman was you, wasn’t it?”

“Guilty as charged.” Medivh said, raising his hands in mock surrender. He then mumbled to himself with a hint of bitterness: “A lot of good that did, given Theramore is now a crater.”

Modera looked over Medivh once more. She had been part of the Council of Six the longest out of her fellow members. She was there when Medivh was vibrant and young, still adjusting to life after waking up from a near ten-year coma. During that night at the ball, she caught a glimmer of that charming, fun-loving mage and it was all too easy for her to recognize him.

But now, standing before her wasn’t the beloved social butterfly or a Guardian who was twisted and corrupted by Sargeras. Medivh’s eyes were dull, like a pair of pearls that had lost their luster. Their usual shine of mischief and mirth was replaced by a haunted, tired look. Medivh was a broken man and Modera had to wonder if that was punishment enough.

“So, what’s it going to be?” Medivh asked. He raised his hands, offering his wrists to her as if she were going to slap a pair of cuffs onto them. “Cart me off to the Violet Hold? Execute me for my crimes?”

Modera was a little taken aback. Surely, Medivh must have been joking but there was a certain look in his eyes that made her wonder if he was actually serious. If he _desired_ punishment. Modera’s lips pressed together, forming a firm line as she considered it, just for a moment.

“Is everything alright here?”

Both Modera and Medivh looked up to see Khadgar walking out onto the balcony to join them. He sauntered over, positioning himself almost between them. Khadgar reached over and took one of Medivh’s hands, gently pulling him a little closer to himself.

Modera gave a small sigh, Khadgar stepping in actually brought a small sense of relief. “Yes, I was just having a chat with your date. Catching up and all that.”

“If that’s all it was then I’m glad.” Khadgar gave a pleasant smile but Modera could feel it was far from genuine. While Khadgar didn’t say Medivh’s name, he wasn’t using his chosen alias either, dropping the charade. “Please be kind to my companion, it’s been a battle convincing him to go out into the world.”

“Of course…” Modera said as she took the hint and stepped away.

She looked over her shoulder and was met with an icy look from Khadgar that wasn’t quite a glare. Medivh, who she expected to give a catty look, instead looked apologetic. How he was holding onto Khadgar’s hand as if it were a lifeline didn’t go unnoticed.

“I wouldn’t dream of getting between you two.” The corner of Modera’s mouth twitched into a smirk. The situation was complicated yet charming in its own odd way. “You old birds belong together.”

- **The End** -


	3. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No beta! We die like men! :'D I'm sorry in advance if this is a little rough.

**Prompt** : Trust

Medivh had wondered why Khadgar was constantly coiled in magic. When he concentrated on it, his eyes could see the words and runes wrapped around Khadgar’s entire being, like several lacy ribbons.

One was clearly a glamor (a well crafted one), it was easy to spot given that Medivh had seen similar spells coiled around his mother constantly. He couldn’t judge, knowing what it was like to hold pride in one’s appearance and their ability to be alluring. But still, just the fact that it was  _ Khadgar _ was what surprised him. He had never known the boy (now man) to care so much about such things. He was a simple lad, to the point and refreshingly honest.

It wasn’t that Medivh could complain, Khadgar’s appearance was charming, to say the least. He could see the familiar face of the boy that came to study under him all those years ago. But curiosity could be a horrible, incessant thing. The question of ‘why?’ nibbled at him, then gnawed.

When Medivh first asked about the spellwork, Khadgar claimed it was simple vanity. But when Medivh asked to see his true face Khadgar snapped with a firm ‘no’, surprising them both. It was like the magus had accidentally brushed his fingers against the injury of an animal. That protectiveness of an unseen wound was enough to make Medivh’s gut twist. He apologized, Khadgar also apologized, and the pair tried to leave it at that. 

Ever since the ‘Fourth War’ had started, Khadgar had been staying at Karazhan far more often. While he claimed it was for research, they both knew that the real reason was seeking comfort. Khadgar was hurt after seeing the bonds forged from joining together for the greater good crumble away so easily. The new found trust, the numerous friendships, everything that had been built during the fight against the Legion wilted so easily. Khadgar was being pressured to pick a side. He couldn’t do it and so he fled, Dalaran would remain neutral so long as he was its leader.

Still, there was pressure to pick sides even in his city. Politicians and opportunists from both factions began instigating debate and tensions among Dalaran’s citizens. Going as far as painting Khadgar as indecisive and even cowardly. When they tried to debate him to his face however, he acted with graceful ruthlessness that not only cut down his opponent to size but also embarrassed them. It was all a well played act, a carefully crafted persona based off of the memories of his former master before he finally crumbled to madness. Medivh didn’t seem to notice or at least acted like he didn’t.

Still, it was clear that Khadgar’s studies and searching for ways to save the ailing planet and Dalaran politics were starting to take their toll. As taxing as it was, he was adamant in keeping up the glamor, though it did waver a little now and then. One moment Khadgar would be fresh faced and chipper, the next hour or so he could look as if he had suddenly aged by ten years or so.

“Aren’t you tired from keeping that spell active all the time?” Medivh asked one night. “I know you don’t like the thought of taking off that glamor but it might help you relax.” He then paused, giving Khadgar a moment to consider his words and to wait for a reaction to see if he had overstepped any boundaries.

Khadgar broke eye contact with him. His brow knit together as he took a moment to think, weighing something in his mind. Khadgar’s mouth then formed a firm line as he gave a soft sigh through his nose. “You’re not going to like what you see…”

“Your true face?” Medivh asked with a quirked brow, feigning ignorance. It was a knee jerk reaction, a small play to keep tensions low, a handy trick from his more social days. Khadgar gave him a knowing  _ look _ but said nothing. Medivh cleared his throat, looking a little embarrassed. “Sorry, old habit. I only say it because I’m concerned. You’ve been so exhausted lately and I can’t help but think keeping that glamor active doesn’t help.”

“You’re also curious about what’s under it.” Khadgar added, his tone blunt but not angry.

“Admittedly, yes.” Medivh said. “I can see spellwork, I can see that glamor spell wrapped around you but there’s clearly something else there under it.”

“That’s…” Khadgar stopped himself, biting his lower lip. Medivh really didn’t remember, did he? He floated the idea of lying, saying it could have been from a past fight after his time at the tower. But no, this was a matter that needed to be addressed sooner or later. “You won’t like what you’ll see…”

Medivh was silent but gave no signs of shying away from the subject.

Khadgar gave a small, weary smile. His stomach fluttered as he began to lower the spell, it was rare he’d show his true face to anyone. It felt akin to undressing, peeling off the more youthful look, wiping away the lightening of his scars, and loosening his posture a bit. It was frightening for him to lower his guard so much, to let himself be this vulnerable.

Medivh’s expression as he watched the  _ change _ of Khadgar’s appearance was unreadable. His eyes widened slightly as he saw the ribbon-like spellwork of the glamor give way to a much harsher spell--No, it was a  _ curse _ . It was chain-like, wrapped around Khadgar tight, unrelenting, and cruel.

Medivh walked closer to Khadgar, reaching up and placing a hand on the younger mage’s cheek. He studied Khadgar’s details as he gently ran a thumb along part of a scar that trailed across his face. Each wrinkle, each scar, the dark circles under his eyes all told the story of a man who had been through too much war and loss.

Khadgar closed his eyes, leaning his head into Medivh’s touch. The action wasn’t lost on the older mage, Khadgar was clearly touch starved. A horrible thought then crossed Medivh’s mind. Had Khadgar avoided intimate relationships because of his condition? A glamor could change appearances and some physical traits for a time but such magic could only do so much.

Medivh drew in a breath through his nose and released it as a soft sigh. The fury he felt, the thought that someone would do something like this to  _ his _ Trust. The curse itself was wild and nonsensical but quite effective all the same. Though the words in it were scratchy and jagged, barely legible, he could  _ feel _ its intent. The curse was a death sentence, pure and simple. It was meant to take  _ everything _ from Khadgar, his magic and his life. It was supposed to leave nothing but bones and dust behind. But the most horrifying part of the matter was that the curse was  _ still active _ . Medivh could see it, the spell twisted and writhed around Khadgar, trying to gorge itself on his lifeforce.

“How are you not dead?” Medivh asked, now unable to hide the growing dread.

Without a word, Khadgar took the Magus’ hand and pressed something into his palm. Medivh looked down and found himself holding a life gem. A very rare treasure that emitted a constant flow of life energy. How Khadgar came in possession of one was a large question in itself but Medivh was far too stunned by the fact that he was literally holding his Trust’s life in his hand. 

Khadgar watched Medivh in silence, he noted the furrow of the older mage’s brow. Medivh was thinking, likely trying to piece together who the culprit could be. Khadgar couldn’t help the tired smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. He could clearly see the plotting look in Medivh’s eyes. He was likely thinking of what kind of punishment he would personally give.

It wasn’t long before Medivh’s stoic expression finally began to crumble. Deep down, part of him already knew the truth but he didn’t want to accept it. Anger died down and cooled as devastation washed over him like a tidal wave. He tried to speak, but he choked here and there as emotion had tangled itself with his words. “This...this  _ c-catastrophe _ of curse, this is... _ my _ doing? I-I...Wha…What did I…? W-why…?”

“Your mind was broken at the time.” Khadgar said with a sad smile. “I can’t deny that there were times I resented you for this. Yet, I never wanted to believe you would have done this willingly.” Khadgar gave a small shrug, as if the matter wasn’t a life threatening one. “I guess your reaction confirms that. I’m glad for that much.”

_ “Trust is poison to secrets and secrets are poison to trust.” _

Medivh swallowed as those words bubbled up from the depths of his mind. Sargeras had said them during Khadgar’s apprenticeship. Oh how he could almost hear the mad titan’s mocking laughter.

Khadgar hadn’t expected to be pulled into a tight embrace. There was a strange mix of desperation and defiance in it. All Khadgar could do was slip his arms around him and embrace him back. “It’s fine...I accepted that this was my fate years ag--”

“No...” Medivh croaked as he stubbornly fought back a sob. “I’m not going to let that happen. I swear, I’m going to fix this...”

“Medivh, you can’t--”

“I’ll find a way to remove it.” Medivh huffed. “And if I can’t find one then I’ll  _ make _ one.”

Khadgar sighed but didn’t try to argue any further. The tiredness of everything, the wars, the politics, and keeping the glamor active finally just hit him all at once. But there, being held in Medivh’s embrace, he felt oddly safe. Something about the conviction in his words made him want to believe that maybe,  _ just maybe _ , everything was going to be okay.

- **The End** -


	4. Ravenform

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again, a little rough but I hope it's still enjoyable.

**Prompt** : Ravenform

Khadgar enjoyed flying, there was a certain freedom in flight upon one’s own wings. It was something that he had to admit he took for granted as the years went. But soaring through the skies with Medivh brought a lot of that wonder of flight back.

It went beyond just a trip through the skies to cut down on time. It was more like they were dancing in the air. They spiraled towards the earth together talon in talon then let go and flew off in opposite directions before getting too close to the ground. They showed off for each other, Khadgar did a few loop de loops while Medivh twirled into a graceful roll.

They raced each other, laughing and warbling as they used every trick they knew. For a while, Khadgar almost forgot he was a mage, a human with responsibilities and a world to save. It felt good to let go, to fly free with his...his…?

Khadgar looked to Medivh, who had managed to get ahead of him. The further ahead he flew the faster Khadgar wanted to chase after him. The ability to take animal form could have its drawbacks. Often some habits and traits of the animals one took the form of would eventually rub off on one’s personality. Khadgar had found himself gaining a fondness for shiny objects, often collecting them. Some of his champions _still_ haven’t forgiven him over his requests for apexis crystals and nethershards. He had also taken to shifting into raven form simply to tug on the tails of druids, surprising them and then flying away. All small, silly habits.

But then there were others that were more worrisome. His playful nature that got on the nerves of some and that he was certain helped drive Cordana Felsong into the waiting arms of the Burning Legion. Since that incident Khadgar tried to be more mindful of himself. A few champions had noticed the change, that he seemed to be keeping people at arm’s length. 

The betrayal of Cordana cut deeper than he wanted to admit. At first, Khadgar wanted to say it was only because he had seen her as a friend. In truth, he had grown feelings for her, Cordana was beautiful but Khadgar also admired her strength and cunning. He felt safe around her and wished to at least have a friendship. He was under no illusions that she’d feel the same. She was far older than Khadgar and his true appearance was a source of anxiety. He’d try to make her smile, with varied results. While he thought there was at least the start of a bond it was all shattered by Gul’dan.

No, it wasn’t only Gul’dan, Khadgar was certain he was also to blame. According to his champion, she considered him childish and dangerous. Reading her written reports on him drove the knife even deeper. He couldn’t resent her for it, he took it as confirmation of his own flaws and failings.

Khadgar couldn’t help but think that being close to him brought some kind of curse. He was no stranger to loss, having lost many good comrades over the years. Those who did come back were often changed beyond recognition. His reunion with Turalyon and Alleria was bittersweet. At first there was joy at seeing his friends were still alive but as they talked it was clear they weren't the same people he once knew. In a way, it was like he lost them all over again. They were different people now, the friends he knew all those years ago were long gone, forever changed by their experiences and never to be seen again.

Medivh returning into Khadgar's life was something completely unexpected. He could remember that moment, sensing that familiar presence in Karazhan. Feeling it then and there made a shiver crawl up his spine. He instantly felt the urge-- no, the _need_ to find the Medivh. It was like a magnetic force pulling at him, guiding him to the higher reaches of the tower.

Then that moment, seeing Medivh there in the warping room that was once the game hall. When their eyes met, Khadgar just _knew_ he was the real thing. Medivh seemed to recognize him almost immediately as well, safe for a brief moment. It had been so long and Khadgar’s glamor likely confused him at first. But then, that look of realization that made Khadgar’s heart flutter in his chest. If it weren’t for the direness of the situation, he would have pulled Medivh into a tight embrace then and there.

Khadgar had often thought back on that moment, on those feelings of joy and connection. He felt something similar as they flew together and played in ravenform. Perhaps those feelings were even stronger when they were like this. Khadgar had his suspicions as to why, there was one trait ravens had that he suspected rubbed off on him a long time ago.

Khadgar beat his wings harder, cawing at Medivh as he began falling behind. The older mage had been so focused on the horizon, the feeling of freedom that he almost missed his companion’s calls. Medivh slowled and fluttered, hovering in the air a moment before flying back to Khadgar.

“Terribly Sorry! I got a little carried away…” Medivh apologized. “Shall we land?”

“I could use a breather.” Khadgar agreed.

Both raven-mages then flew together to find a safe place to rest. They retook their human forms and settled themselves under the shade of a large tree. Medivh sat with his back against its trunk, looking out at the waters of nearby lake. He smiled, getting out for a flight did good for both his mood and health.

Medivh looked at Khadgar and couldn’t help but smile. It felt good that it was just the two of them there. “Thank you for today…”

“Flying with you?” Khadgar asked. “You don’t have to thank me for that, I was glad to. I haven’t enjoyed flying this much in a long time.”

“It’s funny, I feel the same. Flying together with you feels different from when I do it alone.” Medivh admitted. “I can remember when we worked on you mastering flight form and then teaching you how to fly.” Medivh chuckled at the memory. “...It made me happy flying with you then. I love flying with you now, you’re my equal, my…” Medivh’s words trailed off.

Khadgar could see that he suddenly looked a little embarrassed. Feeling a little braver, he gently pressed for him to finish. “Your…?”

Medivh rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks gained a rosy tint. He didn’t look at Khadgar, silently searching for what to say. Like Turalyon and Alleria, Medivh had also changed but there was a huge difference. Turalyon was changed by the Light, reforged into its soldier to carry out its judgement. Alleria was wrapped in the void, haunted by its whispers. Medivh’s situation was very different. His confidence was shattered, his pride tarnished, but unlike the others Medivh was still himself under it all. It was more a matter of picking up the pieces, letting himself heal and forgiving himself. Khadgar liked to think that spending time together like this, getting Medivh out of the tower, was helping in that recovery.

“Ravens...they can bond by flying together as we do.” Medivh finally said. “I always thought it beautiful, dancing in the air with someone you care about. Your companion, your partner…”

“Your mate...?” Khadgar added, his voice was just above a whisper.

“Such words cannot be spoken lightly, Khadgar.” Medivh said as a soft warning. “Ravens mate for life.”

Khadgar reached over and took hold of one of Medivh’s hands. “...I know.”

Medivh’s eyes widened a little. The way they lit up reminded Khadgar of a pair of emeralds. Medivh moved closer, cautiously at first, before settling down with him. Khadgar wrapped an arm around the older mage and they sat there together for a time. 

  
\- **The End** -


End file.
